


An Angel on the Streets and a Devil in the Sheets

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel/Demon Sex, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Humor, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: Aziraphale didn’t so much as fall into bed with Crowley. His was more of a bumbling flop downwards.It had all started with a kiss. A kiss the night after it had all almost gone to hell. A kiss the day before their inevitable punishment for preventing just that.





	An Angel on the Streets and a Devil in the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, it's my first fic in the Good Omens fandom! Whoo! While watching the tv show, I was entirely convinced that something of this nature had occurred involving the ending, and their survival of their respective trials before Heaven and Hell.

Aziraphale would have liked to say that he had no clue how he wound up in bed with Crowley. He would have liked it quite a bit, saying that. But it would have been terribly inaccurate. A lie, even. He knew very well just how and why it had happened. 

They had just cancelled the Apocalypse, and Aziraphale had no place to stay. Nowhere comfortable, that is. His cozy little bookstore had burned and now he had no other options--

"You could stay at my place."

Aziraphale paused, looking over his shoulder at Crowley. He looked back at the ruin of his bookstore, biting his lip.

"I would hate to impose… There are other places I could stay," he added, his smile a little too bright and optimistic.

Crowley rolled his eyes, grabbing Aziraphale by the arm. "What, the sidewalk? Yeah, real comfy, that. Highest quality concrete." 

"I can manage--"

"And you're not imposing, I  _ invited  _ you."

Despite his insistence that it was an  _ invitation _ , the demon did not allow him to refuse.

So he found himself a guest at Crowley's apartment. It was all a little too modern for his taste, every surface dark and sleek and polished to a metallic shine. But it was comfortable enough, and Crowley  _ had _ proven himself to be a gracious host, treating him to dinner. 

_ Crepes _ . The demon was after his very heart. If he hadn't already stolen it long ago. They'd picked them up from a little shop nearby. One of the few establishments still open, despite the earlier threat of Armageddon. Not even the threat of the end of the world could deter Capitalism, it seemed.

Crepes and wine. Lots of wine. A strange dinner, but it had been a strange day. So it all seemed strangely appropriate. 

They chatted as they munched their way through a modest pile of pastries and sipped a few not so modest glasses of wine. And if Aziraphale noticed Crowley scooting his chair closer, millimeter by millimeter throughout the evening, he didn't comment. He simply enjoyed the company.

It was good to unwind. And after all of the stress of the past eleven years of Armageddon nonsense, they unwound quite a bit. So much, that clearing the table became more difficult than it should have, and Aziraphale found himself urging Crowley to sober up for both of their sakes. The demon reluctantly obliged. 

Though for some reason, he kept bumping into Aziraphale at every opportunity, as if his balance were still impaired. It was puzzling. He clearly had not sobered up completely. When Aziraphale watched from the corner of his eye, however, Crowley seemed fine. His balance only suffered when Aziraphale was watching or if they were near one another. 

The demon must be up to something. Though what he was scheming, Aziraphale had not the slightest. He was about to simply ask, when Crowley tripped past him for the third time. 

It was a natural reaction to grab the poor fool before he ended up on the floor. Only now, they were even closer, Crowley pressed right up against his chest. He could smell his cologne, and the fact that Crowley wore it struck him as both funny, and entirely predictable. Of course, Crowley wore cologne. The demon was always so wrapped up in appearing stylish. The smell of it was no different; spicy and deep and expensive. Like something out of those tiny little bottles that one saw in department stores. The ones that cost an exorbitant amount for a few meager ounces of fluid. On Crowley, layered over his natural smoky scent, it was more intoxicating than the wine.

He grinned up at Aziraphale, and the angel didn’t miss the hint of triumph in his eyes. "Oh. Well hello there, Angel. What brings you here?"

"You… invited me?"

"Ah, did I?" 

Aziraphale shook his head with a sigh. Whatever Crowley’s game was, he didn’t understand. 

“Crowley, what are you--?” The words dried in his throat. 

The way that Crowley was staring at him… The look in his eyes, usually so cold and distant in their reptilian design, was something different in this moment. There was a warmth, there. A fondness. All on clear display with Crowley leaning toward him, nearly tipping over with the motion. 

Aziraphale swallowed hard, a nervous smile crinkling his lips. He didn’t know what to do. Not with himself, or the demon nearly sprawled against his chest. 

It became clear what he  _ should _ do when the demon’s eyes flicked to his lips. Aziraphale's nervous grin only widened as his heart began to race. He pushed Crowley upright and began to take a step back, but long, fumbling fingers pushed into his hair, resting just above his ear. The touch, even though flimsy, held him in place. His eyes widened, an electricity gathering beneath Crowley’s hand. That faint buzz produced whenever they touched; the effect of two things that were not meant to be in contact.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away. How easily Crowley could capture him. Just a single touch, and he was rendered unable to move. 

And Crowley wasn’t saying a word. Just staring at him, eyes hooded, face calm. As if he were sizing up a piece of fine art. One that he had befriended over the course of thousands of years, and who he had  _ maybe _ , perhaps developed feelings toward.

They both had. Neither had ever said anything. Neither had ever made any obvious attempts to express as much. But they both knew. Whenever they were together, in the backs of their minds, they knew.

When Crowley leaned in another inch, his head tilting to the side, it became clear that those unsaid feelings were about to be acknowledged. So that was the demon's plan… Best to stop him before he got carried away.

With heat rising in his cheeks, Aziraphale jumped back, though he couldn't force himself to let go of Crowley, even as he tried to put distance between them. The result was a rather awkward shuffle.

He stared at his old friend with wide eyes. His old friend who he very much wanted to kiss, and blurted the words screaming through his head.

“We’re not  _ supposed _ to kiss--”

Crowley snorted, clearly finding the protest ridiculous. “Yeah, we’re not, are we? And we aren’t supposed to be  _ friends _ , either. We weren’t supposed to stop the Apocalypse. I’m not supposed to save your ass on a regular basis-”

“It’s hardly  _ regular _ ,” Aziraphale muttered, his pride wounded. 

Crowley ignored him, continuing with a spiteful grin curling over his lips. “And you weren’t supposed to give away your fancy flaming sword, if I recall…”

“Will you let that go, already? That was long ago! Ancient history!” Aziraphale snipped. He wanted to shove Crowley away, but still couldn’t bring himself to perform the action.

“Yes! My point exactly!” Crowley exclaimed, throwing his head back as if he were already exhausted by their little tiff. Even as he further contributed to it. Always had to have the last word, the stubborn ass.

“The point  _ is _ ...” Crowley poked his finger against Aziraphale’s chest in emphasis. “You and I have been doing what we’re not supposed to from the very start. And it’s all turned out pretty well, hasn’t it? So why stop now?” He cocked his head, all lazy confidence. As if he had already won their little battle.

Well, he hadn’t. Crowley was stubborn. Hellishly so. But Aziraphale could be stubborn, too. In fact, he often took a secret enjoyment in being so. And right now, he was prepared to show Crowley just how stubborn he could be.

Until the demon leaned closer, their lips nearly brushing, now. The barest hint of teasing contact made Aziraphale shiver, and the flash of ausement in Crowley’s eyes said that he hadn’t missed it.

His breath was deliciously warm against Aziraphale’s skin as he spoke. “Come on, angel… Just one little kiss? For your dear old friend?”

Aziraphale shook his head, their noses nearly bumping. “No, no, no! Stop it! Stop  _ tempting _ me, you dastardly little thing, you!” 

All of these years of dancing around it, teasing and discreetly flirting and coming so very close to acknowledgement… He had grown accustomed to it. It was their game. And now, it appeared that Crowley wished to bring it to a close. As nice as it sounded, Aziraphale wasn't certain if he  _ could, _ just like that.

Crowley’s brow furrowed, a flicker of annoyance showing through for just a moment. “Not one little kiss after I rescued you yesterday? After I rode through fire to get to you! Literal fire!”

“And I appreciate that, but--”

“I rode in to save the day like a… a knight on a flaming _steed_ \- which burned to a damned crisp need I remind you! My steed _burned_, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Yes, Crowley had rode in to save the day. And pardon the pun, but he had looked more than a little hot while doing so. His hero, indeed. Not that he could admit to any of that. It would all go to Crowley’s head and he would never hear the end of it if he encouraged the prideful demon.

They weren’t getting anywhere like this, though. Only edging toward another argument that would see one of them storming off, nothing solved and the both of them miserable until their paths inevitably crossed again.

And deep down, he couldn’t deny that he very much wanted this. He had wanted to kiss Crowley the night that the demon had plucked his parcel of precious books from the wreckage of that old church. And in the heat of the moment, he might very well have done it. If Crowley hadn’t strolled off with that infuriatingly adorable swagger of his.

No, he was beginning to see that this was all futile. But he couldn’t simply give in. Stubbornness and all… He needed a way of giving in without actually giving in… Inspiration struck, and he fixed Crowley with an unamused stare.

“Then kiss me already, for goodness sake!” he huffed. It was difficult to hide the smile that threatened to break through his exasperated facade. He was never good at hiding his smiles. Especially the rare sneaky ones.

“You always do what you want, anyway!” he continued. “Regardless of advice or morals or better judgement!”

Crowley’s face fell slack, his brows rising as he seemed to come to a realization. Then, quick as a flash, that cocky grin was back. “You know what, angel? You have a point.”

Aziraphale smiled, about to remark that he was pleased that Crowley saw it his way, when the demon pulled him into a searing kiss. It burned away all else, leaving nothing but the feeling of Crowley’s hands on either side of his head, holding him steady. And the press of those lips, firm, demanding, and  _ electric _ . 

Sparks seemed to gather between them, and for a moment, Aziraphale wanted to open his eyes to see if they really were there. It seemed a likely reaction in the midst of something so taboo. Angels and demons were forbidden to kiss, after all.

If that were so, then how did something so wrong feel so  _ divine _ ?

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered, a quiet sigh escaping through his nose. Yes, this was really quite lovely… Just this simple little press of--

He yelped, jolting ramrod straight as Crowley’s tongue slipped between his lips. The sneaky little devil! Aziraphale shot a glare at Crowley, but the demon only winked before sliding that long, sinful tongue over his. It made his knees go weak. He didn’t want to admit that this felt good. So good that he was certain that all of Heaven would storm down at this very moment and accost him.

They didn’t. He was left at Crowley’s mercy. If demons had any. It was kind of a terrifying thought, being at the mercy of a demon. But not if the demon in question were Crowley. And not if Crowley were kissing him like  _ this _ , all languid heat and confidence, taking his sweet time as if he had all night.

It took a moment for Aziraphale to realize that he was no longer holding Crowley up, but the opposite. Now, he was nearly slumped in those long, thin arms. When, exactly, had this happened? 

And when had he willingly parted his lips, granting Crowley more freedom to roam? This was only supposed to be a kiss. A simple kiss. And yet, here he was, giving in. 

They really should stop. Before things got out of hand, because he was starting to _feel_ Things. Things that he had never felt before. Things that he was sure that angels weren’t _supposed_ to feel. And if they were, then they certainly weren’t allowed to feel such Things with a demon.

At last, Crowley pulled away with a small, breathy gasp. He kept his fingers tangled in Aziraphale’s hair, either to keep the angel from running, or because he too found himself moving automatically. When he opened his eyes, they were as soft as Aziraphale had ever seen them, even with the undeniable flicker of hunger at the edges.

Unable to resist, Aziraphale reached up to rest his fingers against the sharp line of Crowley’s cheekbone, a tender smile on his lips. 

“Er… M-maybe just… One more? If I could? J-just one more…” When Crowley didn’t decline, he leaned in, taking the lead this time. And Crowley let him, doing nothing more than moving with him, this kiss a much softer affair, but just as passionate as the first. They both pressed closer, the stiff fabric of Aziraphale’s vest wrinkling against Crowley’s worn blazer, hands roaming and grasping.

Crowley shifted, and then there was something pressed against him, firm and insistent. It took a moment for Aziraphale to realize what it was. When he did, his cheeks flushed terribly. It only grew worse when Crowley began to rub teasingly against him. Those ridiculously tight pants didn’t leave much to the imagination… At least his own trousers helped hide his similar predicament. 

“Cr- Crowley! Stop that! You’re being inappropriate!”

Crowley looked at him, desire burning away the softness that had lingered in his gaze only seconds ago. Though ‘desire’ seemed too weak a word. Crowley appeared downright ravenous, his voice coming out a low growl when he spoke. 

“I want you, angel… Aziraphale…” Crowley tugged him closer, one of his hands sliding downward to press against the front of his trousers. No hope in hiding his interest now… Still, their own wants didn’t matter. This was forbidden.

“Crowley, we can’t. It’s… It’s not allow--”

Crowley ground his teeth, giving Aziraphale a brief shake with the force of his annoyance. “We could be destroyed tomorrow! By our own sides! So I don’t give a rat’s ass what  _ they _ think is right or wrong! We are on  _ our own _ side, don’t you get it!?"

Aziraphale could only stare, startled into silence by Crowley's explosive frustration.

"It doesn’t matter what they want. Only us. And I want you… If we only have this last night together… if it’s my last night here, then that’s all that I want. You.” Crowley's voice grew quieter as he spoke, the last few words more a murmur than anything else. 

Aziraphale flashed a sympathetic grin, more than a little flattered to hear everything put so bluntly. The feeling was mutual. And… All these centuries of denying himself what he wanted… Crowley was right. To-- to  _ Hell _ with it all. 

"You know what, demon? You have a point," he said, his voice soft and light as he echoed Crowley's words from earlier.

Crowley didn't seem to expect him to change his mind so easily. He stared at Aziraphale, his shoulders slowly falling as if he were deflating. "What?" he mumbled, cocking his head.

Aziraphale chuckled, a sudden lightness taking hold in his chest. A feeling of wild freedom. He took Crowley's chin between thumb and forefinger, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek. 

"Why not? As you said, we've done nothing but break the rules from the very start of it. So…" He licked his lips in nervous anticipation, his eyes darting to the corners of the room as if he expected Gabriel to rise from the shadows at any moment. His voice fell to an excited whisper as he spoke. "So why not break the biggest rule of them all? If we're to go out, then let's do so with a bang!" He thrust his fist upward with the last part, his grin nearly manic.

Crowley arched a brow. "Did you mean that to be a pun?" 

"No?" Aziraphale frowned, thinking. Then he understood. "Oh, hush, you. You know what I mean!"

Crowley shrugged, walking around Aziraphale until he faced the short hallway that lead to his bedroom. He kept a hand resting against Aziraphale's lower back, nudging him forward. 

"Just making sure, my ineffable angel," he smirked, looking sideways at Aziraphale. "Really, though, you're  _ far _ from 'ineffable'. In my opinion, you are extremely  _ eff _ -able. Irresistibly."

Another frown, another moment of thoughtful silence from Aziraphale. Then, his cheeks flushed again and he turned to swat at Crowley. "You--! You are an utter and complete scoundrel!"

Crowley didn't pause. He kept walking down the hall, a grin on his lips. "You love it," he stated, pushing open the bedroom door. Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, a hitch in his stride, but Crowley guided him forward. Right over to the bed. Aziraphale swallowed, looking over the king-sized mattress, black silken sheets draped over it like liquid shadows.

Crowley spun, facing the angel. "You're nervous," he observed, gaze raking over Aziraphale's stiff posture. "Why're you nervous?"

Aziraphale frowned, looking away. If he told Crowley that he was nervous because he had never actually had…  _ intercourse _ … Well, the demon would never let him live it down. But his kind simply didn't  _ do _ that sort of thing. They weren't-- Aziraphale smiled, looking back at Crowley and straightening his shoulders. 

His kind were not allowed to experience intercourse. But… Crowley was right. They were no longer aligned with their own respective sides. All that held him back was his own inexperience. And if he could be the first angel to learn how to dance, then surely he could be the first to engage in intercourse, as well.

"Maybe a little," he said brightly, flashing a toothy grin. 

Crowley crossed his arms over his chest. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" he asked bluntly.

"I beg your pardon!? That--! Now, you listen here! That is none of your business!" Aziraphale spluttered, shaking a finger.

Crowley only shrugged, making a noncommittal noise in his throat. "I expected as much." He took a step forward, mere inches from Aziraphale once again. He grabbed the lapels of Aziraphale's long, cream-colored jacket and pushed it over his shoulders, down his arms. It fell to the floor in a graceless heap.

Aziraphale watched it fall, but his gaze snapped back to Crowley as the demon cupped his chin, tilting his head back up. Long, sneaky fingers undid the buttons of his vest, one by one.

"In fact, I like the idea," Crowley murmured. The tips of his canines showed as he spoke in a low, husky whisper. "Taking an angel's virginity? Now  _ that _ is something."

Aziraphale let out a nervous laugh. "Hmm. Maybe you'll receive an award." He kept his hands at his sides, trying not to fidget. He couldn't stop himself from shifting his weight to either foot.

His vest joined his jacket on the floor, leaving only his dress shirt before his upper torso was bared. He squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to glance downward. There would be no hiding the soft pudge of his belly; it was likely already clear enough without his vest and jacket to balance his figure. He was far from the angel he had been when he and Crowley had first met. He had been warned about the dangers of enjoying too many desserts during his time in the Middle Ages, but his sweet tooth got the best of him.

His eyes popped open when he felt Crowley fiddle with his bow tie. An uneasy hum slipped from his throat as he started to bounce on his toes.

"Can't we just--? Could we keep our clothes on?" Aziraphale asked, his arms tight at his sides.

Crowley heaved a sigh, pausing in his work. "Aziraphale… That's enough of that," he said softly. He brushed his fingers over Aziraphale's cheek, uncharacteristically tender. "You are... exquisite. Really. Always have been, always will be."

Aziraphale went still, his posture loosening. He had… He had never been called "exquisite", before. Many other things, yes, but not that. And not with such reverence. 

"Th-thank you," he murmured, self-conscious for an entirely different reason, now.

"Oh, don't thank me," Crowley grumbled, though it was a good-natured, playful sound. "Just remove your pants, instead."

"Excuse me!?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, reaching down to take matters into his own hands. Which would be a lot easier if the bloody angel would stop squirming. "Hold still!" he barked, struggling with the belt. 

In moments, Aziraphale found himself standing naked before his oldest and closest friend. His smile quivered at the corners as his hands moved inch by shaky inch, drawn - as if by some magnetic force - to cover himself. Fortunately, Crowley didn't remark, allowing him his moment of attempted modesty. That, or the demon was too preoccupied with shedding his own decency. It was a good distraction, at least.

Aziraphale watched with fascination as Crowley made short work of his own clothes, peeling off his blazer and shirt and slithering from his snug jeans and undergarments. For a moment, he wanted to look away, to give Crowley his privacy. His dear friend had never been the modest type, though, and he knew with certainty that Crowley wanted him to look. So he did, his heart racing in his chest, heat flushing through him.

Not that he was given too much time to enjoy the view. With a hand splayed flat against Aziraphale's bare chest, Crowley pushed him backwards onto the bed, following after in one smooth motion. He crawled on top of Aziraphale until his hands rested on either side of the angel's head. A delicious warmth gathered between them, their chests pressed together with every intake of breath.

This close, without the barrier of clothing between them, Aziraphale could feel every inch of Crowley's erection pressing against him. There was no hiding his own, either. If either of them were to move even the slightest--

Crowley moved. Not an accidental movement. A purposeful, repetitive movement. It sent Crowley's cock dragging over Aziraphale's. Again and again.

Aziraphale clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling a shocked cry as pleasure shot through him. He knew that humans made a big fuss over sex, but he hadn't expected such an intense sensation. He stared at Crowley with wide eyes, caught between begging the demon to cease his actions - this terrible, irresistible, wonderful thing that he was doing - and… And…

"O-oh... Crowley, please. Don't stop…" The words fell from his lips without his permission.

Crowley only grinned, his hands roaming down Aziraphale's chest, teasing over his nipples. He rolled his hips, long and slow, drawing a few more glorious moans from his angel.

"Just you wait. This is just a warm-up," he purred. He watched Aziraphale shudder beneath him, already overwhelmed. It was a lovely sight, the way those precious lips parted in desperate gasps and sighs. 

To see an angel, to see Aziraphale, caught in the grips of pleasure, surrendering to the heat of lust… It was the most beautiful thing that he had seen in all of his years. And he had witnessed the very first sunrise in all of Creation. 

It paled in comparison to the light dancing in the sky blue of Aziraphale's eyes, the rosy blush glowing on his cheeks. 

Crowley moved his hands up, bracing them on Aziraphale's shoulders. A quick demonic "miracle" to slick the way between them, and he was ready to go. He pressed his hips even closer, rutting harder and faster until Aziraphale was a whimpering mess beneath him, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

It didn't take long for it all to become too much for the poor, inexperienced angel. A strange pressure seemed to gather within him, every sensation building upon itself until it became too much to bear. Until he felt ready to burst with it. And then, he did. 

Aziraphale cried out, arching against the mattress as he grasped at Crowley. Desperate and terrified, he pulled him close, nearly crushing Crowley against his chest as he gasped and shuddered and sang out his finish.

And how beautiful, the song that Aziraphale sang. Perhaps Heaven did have musicians worth noting.

Aziraphale fell limp, his arms resting heavy around Crowley's waist, chest heaving beneath him. 

Crowley grinned, content to enjoy the view until Aziraphale returned to his senses.  _ He _ had done this. This thing that no one had ever done to the angel, before.

When the room swam back into focus, Aziraphale saw Crowley smiling down at him. It wasn’t that teasing smirk or mocking grin that he so often wore. This was something much more rare. Something tender and sincere. That flicker of hunger still prowled there, but it had been muted, for the time being.

"Cr-Crowley… That was…That was amazing!" Aziraphale mumbled, blinking the last of the fog from his eyes as he smiled up at his friend. Though now… now they were lovers, he supposed.

Crowley smirked, though Aziraphale didn't miss the glimmer of pride in his gaze. "Yeah? Even though we aren't  _ allowed _ ?" he teased, tucking a sweaty curl behind Aziraphale's ear.

Aziraphale didn't answer. Instead, he looked away, his shoulders drawing up as he bit his lip. In a small voice, he asked, "Can we do it again?"

Crowley flashed his teeth in a wide, wild grin. "Now you're talking, angel!" He inched lower, getting into a better position, though Aziraphale didn't notice. 

"Yes, well..." he said with a nervous giggle. "You've corrupted me, Crowley. I hope you're pleased with yourself."

Crowley gave himself a few quick strokes, coaxing himself back to attention. Not that he necessarily needed to; demons weren't bound by the same biological limits as humans. He could keep going and going until he got bored with it.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I am. And in just a moment, you're going to be pleased with me, too," he chirped, pressing himself between Aziraphale's legs.

Aziraphale jumped, nearly propelling himself up the bed, the sheets wrinkling and bunching beneath him. He shot Crowley an accusatory glare.

"What are you doing!?" he demanded, looking very much like one of those puffed up Persian cats. All fluff and no real threat. 

Crowley cocked his head, frowning. "Sex?" Then, cupping his hands around his mouth, he said a little louder, as if Aziraphale were hard of hearing. "We're having sex, Aziraphale! Real,  _ actual _ sex!"

"Y-you mean before… That wasn't?"

"Ohhh… What in the hell are they teaching you lot in Heaven, these days!?" 

Aziraphale looked hurt. "Well, certainly not that."

"Yeah, that much is obvious,” Crowley grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Explains Gabriel and the rest of those stuffy pricks."

Aziraphale shifted and fidgeted against the sheets. "So… That, um… What we did before? That wasn't… the 'real deal’?"

"No, I told you: that was just a warm up. Really, though? You've been around this long, and you haven't figured out how it works, yet?"

"No!" Aziraphale looked even more offended. "I mean, it's not like I made the effort to  _ watch. _ 'Oh, hold on there! You two are having intercourse? Let me just peek under the covers and see how that works!'" 

Crowley sighed, his annoyed expression turning to one of sympathy. "They have books about it, too, you know. Some of ‘em even have nice pictures. You like books."

"Not ones of that nature," Aziraphale said with a huff. 

"Well, consider this your own personal education." Crowley's tone softened, his eyes flicking up to meet Aziraphale's. "If you want it, that is."

Swallowing hard, Aziraphale forced himself to hold Crowley's gaze, even as his cheeks burned. He did. He wanted Crowley so hard that his chest ached with it. And this… this was proof of their bond. Proof that Crowley wanted him, as well. Not just for satisfaction, but something deeper. People didn't look at people the way that Crowley was looking at him when it was just something casual. That much, he did know.

With a slow but determined nod, he reached up to pull Crowley against him in a forceful kiss. The demon yelped in surprise, though it quickly melted into a moan as Aziraphale's tongue pushed into his mouth. When they pulled away, Aziraphale settled back against the mattress, spreading his legs with an encouraging smile. The corners of it wavered with a mix of excitement and anxiety. 

Crowley lined himself up again, his other hand resting on Aziraphale’s hip. A reassurance. His eyes flicked up to meet bright blue. There was nervousness there, but he also found trust. And something else. Something that he had glimpsed long ago after rescuing a case of books from a church fire. He had found that certain something in Aziraphale’s eyes as the angel beamed at him, and he had turned away as quick as he could. It had scared him, at the time, seeing what he had felt for so long reflected right back at him. A complication in their Arrangement.

Now, he welcomed it. He basked in its glow, hoping that Aziraphale saw the same in his own eyes. Leaning forward, he caught the angel’s lips in a gentle kiss, sliding in.

Aziraphale shuddered beneath him, already moaning and grasping at his arms. Crowley deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth as he slid further into the heat of his body. It was already almost too sweet to bear, pleasure crackling between them, heightened by the simple fact of what they  _ were _ . A demon joining with an angel in the most intimate of ways; it had to be one hell of a force.

It certainly appeared that way for Aziraphale, whimpering the moment that Crowley broke the kiss, giving his lips a brief little parting flick with his tongue. 

Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath, pushed it back out on a shuddering sigh. Crowley felt like fire inside of him, pushing deeper and deeper, inch by careful inch. A glorious, delicious fire that coaxed him open, filled him to the brim. 

He loved him. His dear Crowley. His dastardly little demon who was far sweeter than he would ever admit. Aziraphale loved him. And having him this close, feeling Crowley move inside of him, was almost more than he could take.

It was nothing compared to the moment when Crowley began to thrust. Aziraphale cried out, yanking Crowley against him.

“Oh! Oh, Crowley! It’s--ahhh…” All of his words fled him, evaporated away by the heat of the demon’s flesh. Against him as they moved together, inside of him. Everything was sweet, dragging friction. He would never last. 

He didn’t. All too soon, he was swept away in the rise of another orgasm before Crowley had even picked up his pace. 

Not that the demon seemed to mind. He simply carried on, fucking Aziraphale through that orgasm and on to the next. Another advantage of being only human- _ shaped _ . They could enjoy the perks of the equipment without any of the limitations or mess.

They went another round. And another. A third, stopping only to kiss and touch and laugh in the shared bliss of it all. A short pause to catch their breath, then off they went again. As if making up for lost time. As if making up for the days that they may not have after tomorrow rolled around.

Again and again, Crowley's fervor rising each time. Aziraphale’s confidence rose with it, and soon, they were fucking in earnest. The lines between them blurred as they moved in synchrony, neither aware of anything outside of shared breaths, hearts racing in tandem, heat and pleasure swelling within them. 

Perhaps that's how they would be found. How hilarious, having the forces of Heaven and Hell come fetch them at a time like this. Crowley would love to see the looks on their faces as they took in the scene before them. An angel and a demon, vigorously and joyfully fucking. He nearly laughed aloud as he wondered if he and Aziraphale would be allowed to finish the act, or if anyone would attempt to pull them apart. He pitied the poor creature who would even  _ consider _ trying.

At last, their stamina reached its limit, and they collapsed into a graceless heap. Together, they drifted on the edges of consciousness, anchored in each other's arms. 

In that moment, both felt as if something inexplicable had been bestowed upon them by the other. A kind of easy confidence that they could survive whatever would befall them these next few days. Perhaps that was why angels and demons were so strongly prohibited from fraternizing. Because together, they became something that the forces of neither Heaven nor Hell could conquer. Something capable of subverting even the Apocalypse.

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a smile, each nuzzling down into the rumpled sheets, warm and secure in one another's arms. Their worries were far away.

They had come this far with teamwork, friendship, love. Perhaps they could face whatever else would come tomorrow.

Love shared between an angel and a demon… It was a truly ineffable force.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Twitter! @and_snark


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